Stage Fights
by Quidditch Anyone
Summary: Ladies and gentlemen, presenting Hogwart's very first Magical Musical! I promise the content makes up for the corny title.
1. A Different Side of Ron Weasley

"Stage Fights" by Quidditch, Anyone?

Plot: Ladies and gentlemen, presenting Hogwart's very first Magical Musical!

  


A Different Side of Ron Weasley

  


Bill and Charlie were the oldest. Percy was perfect at practically everything. The twins were zealous and fun. Ginny was the baby girl. Ron was... er, well... he was just Ron. Nothing really remarkable on his surface, or even when you got to know him. Sure, he was loyal and kind hearted, but the trouble was he just wasn't really _known_ for anything. He lacked some sort of niche in the Weasley family's list of outstanding aspects. Or so anyone might think before they saw him act and sing.

  


That's right: act. and. sing.

  


It was true that ill-tempered, easily embarrassed Ron was really something when it came to acting. So why didn't anyone at school know about this? _Why_ wasn't Ron signing autographs and having super models hanging off his arm at all times? Well, think about it! Since when did Hogwarts have all these stupid school plays featuring Ron Weasley? He never really got a chance to show off.

  


That is, until the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher arrived.

  


·~··~··~·

  


It all started at the beginning of the gang's fifth year at Hogwarts. Looking forward to seeing some new teacher that was bound to be better than the past Death Eater, who shall remain nameless, they were let's say a bit more than disappointed to find out that the new teacher came from a different ring of evil- Hollywood. With his gleaming white teeth and sunglasses (during the pitifully rainy months in Britain, mind you), Professor DeMarlo was just an Americanized Lockheart who happened to have appeared as an extra in a muggle film or two. That alone can only make you wonder how much his ego would grow until it took up the entire castle.

  


Having spent less than a week at Hogwarts, Mister Tinseltown voiced that it was 'appalling that never before had there been so much as a drama club for the extraordinarily talented young students'. To shut him up, Dumbledore didn't object and let him start up a musical of his own. His only request was to have their first play be a rather tasteful one. Perhaps DeMarlo went a bit overboard, however, when he picked Oliver Twist. Now,did he _really_ think the student body at Hogwarts was that good? Oh well... keep in mind, friends, he was an idiot.

  


·~··~··~·

  


Hermione hummed slightly to herself. She had just come from a refreshing afternoon pouring over books that hadn't been read in years. You mean, she stumbled upon a collection of classic volumes that were considered priceless? No, it's just that everyone at school had much better things to do then, umm, read, so most books were untouched.

  


Anyway, our heroine of literature popped into the Common Room to find Fred and George Weasley beside themselves with laughter. Well, actually, since they were twins they were always 'beside themselves', so I suppose Hermione had found them, in a sense, quadrified... or something.

  


"What's so funny?" she asked immediately. In a corner she spotted a Ron that was so red he was almost falling off a side of the color spectrum. He held a stack of stapled pieces of paper. Knowing it couldn't be schoolwork, or anything else that would dignify him as a good student, she was slightly intrigued.

  


"What's that? Why are they laughing?" Hermione asked as she jabbed her thumb at Ron's brothers. He said quite jerkily, "God, one question at a time! Can't anyone have some _privacy_ and not be made fun of around here?"

  


Hermione surrendered her hands and backed away. "Sorry!" Fred motioned her over so he could explain through his eruption of lil' girl giggles.

  


"Ron---Ronniekins is--- is," he breathed. Soon after he doubled over and his other double doubled the explanation on the double.

  


"He got into the--- the---" George, too, couldn't get it out. Hermione grew increasingly frustrated and went back to Ron.

  


"Will you _please_ just tell me? I'm going to find out anyway and I won't make fun of you," she pleaded.

  


"Find out? Find out what?" he said nervously.

  


"What?" she questioned back.

  


"Huh?"

  


"What does that mean?"

  


"I don't know what you're talking about!"

  


"I'll find out what?"

  


"About why?"

  


"When?"

  


"_What_???"

  


"_THE PLAY_!" chorused the twins.

  


Hermione shot them a gaping look of surprise while Ron went, if possibly, redder.

  


"Are you serious?" she giggled.

  


"Yes, yes, they're serious, all right? I'm such a wacko because I'm leading that bloody musical this year, okay? Is it really that funny?" Ron shouted irratibly.

  


Hermione swelled like a bushy-haired balloon. "I think that's great!" She grinned at him.

  


"_What_?" Forge shrieked, stunned.

  


Ron smiled sheepishly and could still feel his complexion hue rising.

  


  


  


  


Umptillions of thanks go out to that super-duper fanficfan out there, jaffacake, who gave me the idea to make the play Oliver Twist. The only thing is now I have to read it. I wonder if my old school's library still has that third-grade version I can skim through... well, anyway, don't be surprised if I miraculously leave out many, umm, 'details' about the play. Besides, you all came here for the R/H fluff and snogging possibilities, not a horribly rewritten classic, right? Right!

  


One more thing... I couldn't find 'quadrified' in my mini-dictionary, so I guess I coined it. I don't know why you would want to ever in your entire free lifetime on this earth use it, but feel free to do so anyways. It sounds neat-O, doesn't it?


	2. Croutons

"Stage Fights" by Quidditch, Anyone?

NOTE: This is such a stupid title, I'll admit. Suggestions on a new one?

  


Croutons

  


Was it a choking bird? Was it a crashing plane? No, it was Ron Weasley trying to high notes, Harry thought irritably while doodling splotches on his Charms essay. Hermione sat opposite him at their usual table in the Common Room. Ron was all the way up in his dormitory. He was three stories higher up (Three!), but his lil' Oliver voice rang all the way down. Harry grew more and more frustrated.

  


"You know what the only thing more annoying than someone practicing for musical is, Hermione?" he asked.

  


"Let me guess... when the inside of your nose itches, but you don't want to scratch it because people will think you're picking it instead?" Hermione responded without looking up from her mountain of work.

  


Harry looked at her oddly for a moment, but stopped as he got back on track. "A _teenage_ boy signing two octaves higher than he should while his voice is in the middle of the 'cracking stage'."

  


"Most amusing, Harry," she responded. 

  


Just then the twins walked in with cheery grins and a cardboard box.

  


"Yo, yo, yo! Merry Christmas!" Fred said. His duplicate set down the box and started producing handfuls of some different colored, fuzzy disks.

  


"Now, as we've all been acquainted with our little brother's, er, hidden talent," Fred continued.

  


"Rather, trying to reverse the acts of nature by screeching like a mad banshee," George put in.

  


"We've decided it's time to introduce our newest product. Bam-badah-BAH!"

  


George started tossing the fuzzums over the heads of Gryffindors. "Musical-Muting Muffs!"

  


Harry and Hermione each caught a wooly pair of orange and blue earmuffs. Harry was more than willing to try his one, and judging by the extremely tranquil look on his face, they worked.

  


"Very clever, boys," Hermione smirked as more and more people tried out the product. "But don't you think Ron's feeling might just be a _touch _crumpled to pieces when he finds out you have made a product designed to block out, oh, something like... the sound of his voice?"

  


"Not at all," Fred told her matter-of-factly.

  


"It's all profits, Hermy. Something as insignificant as Ronnie's feeling shouldn't get in our way of making millions, now, should it?" George continued in a mock business-like tone.

  


"Besides, we all know the only one who'll be offended is you, since you're mad about our brother," Fred said nonchalantly.

  


Hermione felt itchy and red. "I do not! Just because I'm concerned about _his_ feelings, it doesn't mean it has any sort of impact on _my_ feelings-"

  


"And what sort of feelings might that be, Hermy?" Fred couldn't resist.

  


"Oh, geezum!" She looked furious at herself. "You know what you what you can do with those earmuffs, don't you?"

  


"What's that?" he asked. 

  


"Next time wear them when you're trying to pick up a girl... it'll draw attention away from that huge zit on your nose."

  


·~··~··~·

  


Oh, the drama! The music! The singing! Too bad the only people in the Great Hall were two teachers, the redheaded actor, and Hermione. Most people had something better to do on this Friday night.

  


Ron finished a piece with one last, low note. The music stopped and Hermione beamed at him. He smiled back and the teachers, Professors DeMarlo and McGonagall, dismissed him from that night's rehearsal.

  


"You're so _fantastic_, Ron!" Hermione praised. Ron turned pink.

  


"It was just a rehearsal. I'm sure by the time the play is actually ready, I'll be _much_ better," he smirked. He was so funny when he tried to show off.

  


The two entered the now dark Great Hall to grab a last bite to eat. The room was practically deserted by now, so they as they sat down they were completely alone.

  


"S'all cold now," Ron whined.

  


"Ah, well... still good," Hermione said as she filled her plate with a dainty salad.

  


A few seconds went by with just the clinking of silverware. Then suddenly Ron asked, "Why didn't you try out for the play, too?"

  


Hermione laughed. Not a dry laugh, but just the opposite, when you feel as if you're about to pee your pants. "Right, Ron-O!"

  


"I'm serious," he smiled at her. "I think you'd be really good at it!"

  


Hermione, now flushed in the face, sat straightly and continued her meal of rabbit food. "No. Honestly, you wouldn't want to see such a thing."

  


"You know, there's still a part open, _if_ you're interested." Ron raised his eyebrows slyly at her.

  


"I'd rather scalp myself, and you look like owl with an itchy nose when you do that."

  


Ron dropped his fork. "Try out," he commanded, all serious and very unRonish, like a general.

  


"Nothing on Earth would make me."

  


"What about a dare?"

  


"A dare?" Hermione questioned. She scraped one of her teeth to check for stray yucky green stuff. Normally she'd be more ladylike, but it was dark and only Ron.

  


"Yup." Then the needle in time stopped. Something totally unexpected, out of the blue, and unremarkable happened. "Try out for the play, or kiss me."

  


_Clank_.

  


"What?"

  


Ron smiled. If he had blushed, she wouldn't have been able to tell as it was so dark.

  


"I'm going to make you try out for the play, or you're going to have to kiss me. Something you'd never do in a million years, so you'll have to do the first thing."

  


Oh, bloody.

  


Hermione just laughed it off with a "Right, like I'd ever do that" or something or other and kept her face in her plate. Ron grinned like he was being clever (which, then again, he was) and finished his meal. Then he popped out of his chair and gave a very happy "Good night!" before disappearing.

  


Hermione stayed in the Great Hall for a long time, munching one crouton after another. Maybe she thought they would get her drunk or something, because she must have consumed at least a hundred before going to bed with the scene on permanent Replay and shaking hands.

  


  


  


  


Thanks to all my fantablulouslyextraordinary readers who bothered to say nice things and make me all happy:

Funkiechick- no arguments here- he IS a hottie...

CurlsofGold- now, really, could you honestly see Hermy pants signing in a play? Well, then again, Ron would be just as unlikely... now I'm all confused and such!

Jaffacake- okay, okay! It's updated! I promise, cross my heart, hope to fly, the next chapter will come soon, too, just for you, hun.

Adnap Nottap- EXTRA- SUPER praise for you! After reading that review, people must have thought I had a little too much 'cough medicine', because I'm sure I had very much of a stupid grin on my face all day.

Laurie Lupin- Oh, stop, I'm blushing all Ronny red.

GinnyWPotter- You're one of those 'odd folk', ain't ya?

mini veela- No idea... I haven't even read the book...

  


Don't you love reading your name in print? I sure do... 

  


Oh yeah, oh yeah... again, sorry times a million for not updating- I've been having a pretty bad November in general, but in a few days I'll be all Christmas spirity and happy again, which means more yummy chapters to come. (Is it just me, or am I seriously beginning to get a little wacked in the head? Ehr, tough luck for me.)

  


  



	3. Pink Knickers

"Stage Fights" by Quidditch, Anyone?

Oh my God... I NEED A NEW TITLE!!!

  


Pink Knickers

  


Quite obviously, no decent play can exist with only one actor, even if that actor is the multitalented Ronald Weasley. There were a good number of cutsie-puksie little second- and third-year actresses, and even a sprinkling of male actors. Who, for the records, would like _everyone_ out there to know that even though this was a musical, and they were English, that they were as straight as a 180-degree angle... or so they claimed.

  


Even Ginny was involved. But as she was Ginny (and wasn't as much of a social casualty as her brother), she was more content to work behind the scenes rather than make a fool of herself with the majority of staff and student body peering at her. Her first job was to do the actors' makeup for the very first dress rehearsal.

  


"And she was totally, like, you are _not_ going to wear those shoes with that belt, are you?" a very unGryffindor-ish Seamus Finnigan gossiped under layers of coverup and lip gloss.

  


"Oh, I _totally_ know where you're coming from," Justin replied while getting his nails filed. "Ow! I said polish buff _only_!" he whined to Ginny. He and Seamus exchanges rolling eyes and snobby 'what-_eveeer_!' sighs.

  


At another corner of the changing room, a white door opened with a faint squeak. Ron instinctively looked up at the noise and saw the familiar swamp of brown frizz.

  


"_Hermione_! What are you doing here?" He hopped down from his own personal chair and lazily tossed aside a quidditch magazine. Hermione smiled timidly and leaked out her answer:

  


"Well, since I'm not the acting type, but play experience is something every honor student should be apart of, I've decided to help out!"

  


"Really? That's great!" Ron exclaimed. She grinned back. She failed to mention how technically being part of the play was to just avoid having to kiss her best friend.

  


"All right, let's get on stage, everyone! Come one, this is our first dress rehearsal and I want everything _perfect_!" DeMarlo called to the students. They began to file out onto the stage and wait for their first cue.

  


Hermione was armed with a moldy paintbrush, a ladder, and a quart of blue paint and was told to start painting the sign that was already hanging from the ceiling.

  


"Now, what sort of genius hangs a sign so high up _before_ painting it?" she proclaimed.

  


"No time for complaining, Ms. Grooner, just get to work," the Hollywood reject drawled.

  


Hermione growled somewhat like cross between a mad dog and Marge Simpson. 

  


"She's just ticked because she's the only one who has to be on a ladder in a miniskirt!" a fourth year whispered to Ginny.

  


And, indeed, the reason Hermione was less than thrilled with her assignment was because everyone and (well, Ginny's) brother could see London, could see France, couldn't help but notice those pink underpants.

  


The first act went fine. Then Ron came on stage and had one of his bigger parts to sing.

  


"Now, take it from the top, Weasley."

  


Ron took a powerful breath, stood straight, and kept his chin up, up, up into the sight of some very distracting knickers. He coughed and asked to start again.

  


"Fine... when you're ready," DeMarlo said.

  


Again he inhaled, positioned, yadda yadda... all seemed okay until he knew that those undies were clearly in his view. He managed a squeak and stammered again.

  


"Drink, Ronald?" DeMarlo instantly sent a cool glass of water Ron's way with a flick of his wand. (This, unsurprisingly, was about the Professor's limit of magical talent.)

  


"Thanks," Ron croaked. He took a rather long time to finish it off.

  


"Today, Weasley..."

  


"Sorry," he mumbled as the glass itself evaporated. He cleared his throat and got prepared- this time ready to close his eyes, which seemed to work... until the end of the piece when instead of doing a double-spin like he was supposed to, he managed to crash right into the set and send the curtain tumbling down.

  


"Quiet!" DeMarlo commanded to the crew of giggling actresses. "Weasley! That's enough for today. Tomorrow, same time."

  


A chunk of still-laughing students snickered and kept looking at Ron. "Yeah, and maybe tomorrow Ron can keep his mind on singing, not his little girlfriend's knickers!"

  


Ron stood in the pool of red curtain and remained silent. His face was a deep crimson, but it was _nothing_ compared to Hermione, who left the room without a word, desperately trying to hide more of her bum with her uniform skirt.

  


  


  


  


Joy!!! Y'all are so nice for reviewing all my stories, and for saying nice things, and even praising me in French! (which I can't speak, but OH WELL!!!) At school my philosophy is ususally "people suck", but once you take a mental health day off to write, you find that you love people.

  



	4. Mmm Mmm Good

"Ron, Hermione, and the Idiotic Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher Who Thinks the Students In Hogwarts Can Act" by Quidditch, Anyone? (C'mon... this title HAS to be better than the previous one, does it not? Thanks, tigris... hee hee.)

  


Mmm Mmm Good

  


The winter months came quickly. The normally peaceful Common Room buzzed with the racket of notorious young actors who were constantly practicing. Surprisingly, this turned out to be an annoyance to nobody due to the Weasley twins' much appreciate earmuffs. The only pupil who had anything negative to say was (interestingly enough) Hermione.

  


"Ron, pass me the- the- the..." her sentence was lost in a very loud sneeze. A small pile of notes scattered from the force.

  


"Tissues," she sniffed.

  


He cringed and handed her the deep purple box with an expression similar to that if he had been asked to clean out a mile of cow barns. Still, being the loving and sweet boy he was, asked if she was okay.

  


"Urgh. It's all DeMarlo's fault. If he hadn't asked me to keep off those Yetiettes in the snowstorm, I would be fine."

  


"Yeah, you'd think being our_ teacher_, he'd know how to handle them without having to consult a fifth-year," Harry voiced.

  


"Well, he_ is_ from Hollywood," Ron said. "And their brain cells diminish faster than their marriages."

  


"Too true," Hermione blew her nose.

  


"Just don't get too close to the thespians... they'll kill you if you get them sick before opening night," Harry smirked. Ron took note of this and tried to discreetly inch away from her. But being Rangy, Redhead Ron, he was a little hard to miss.

  


The group continued to work with a general simmering chatter with sudden injections of "Ah-CHOOS!" now and then. It wasn't until Hermione's nose was Weasley red and the pile of tissues grew larger than her books when her friends told her to go to the hospital wing.

  


"S'for your own good, Hermione," Ron reassured her. 

  


"Right, you just don't want to catch what I have! You're so shallow!" she snuffed at him.

  


"Of course I don't want you to get me sick! What, am I supposed to say, 'Please, Hermione, may you be so kind as to share your bacterial microbes with us'?"

  


She turned redder and left.

  


"Really, Harry, sometimes I just want to kill her!" he peeved his friend.

  


"Oh, give us a break, Ron, you know you'd rather _snog_ her than anything!"

  


The two boys turned to face the flashy team beaters, who had just appeared from being a red couch.

  


"Fred! George! I... she... who asked you?" Ron stammered.

  


"Didn't need to," Fred grinned as he took Hermione's chair. "I think your reaction to her bright pink knickers provoked enough evidence to clear everything up we've suspected about you."

  


Their juvenile brother's eyes expanded. "How'd you know about that?" For obvious reasons (like having girlfriends, not girl-frieeends! and manly curves, not manicures), Forge did not participate in this so-called play, so they didn't witness anything first-hand.

  


"Word travels," George said matter-of-factly.

  


"You honestly think a piece of gossip_ that good_ is going to be left untouched?"

  


"Well, I... but it's not true!" Ron finished hurriedly.

  


Fred and George laughed. "Right, brother, right." George gave a very superior pat on Ron's shoulder. His face was contorted with embarrassment and frustration at the three boys laughing at him. 

  


"What do you_ want_, anyway?" he questioned.

  


They stopped laughing rather quickly. Trying to look beyond suspicion, Fred casually said, "Oh, right... we need Pig."

  


"What do you want him for?"

  


"Just an errand... nothing major," George answered without expression.

  


"What is it?" Ron asked with narrowed eyes.

  


"Geez, bugger off, Ron! Can't we just use your ruddy owl?"

  


"Fine. If you stop spreading rumors about me."

  


"Us? Spread rumors? Why, we're crushed!" Fred faked being offended.

  


"Plus, we don't need too- you're as open as a book, Ron!"

  


Before another insult could be rebounded, the twins scurried off. Ron grumble lowly.

  


·~··~··~·

  


Few days passed and Hermione's cold seemed to be expiring. Luckily none of the future Broadway stars had contracted it either, which made DeMarlo "_More_ than pleased with their good fortune". However, opening night was getting closer and closer, so practices were being held more often than ever. After a particularly long one, Ron and Hermione walked back by themselves.

  


She was laughing at something Ron had said, but he couldn't remember what; he was too busy noticing how nice her teeth were now. All straight and white and lovely and...

  


_Don't make it obvious don't make it obvious don't make it obvious_ _don't make it obvious_

  


If it was plain enough for his sluggishly sad excuses for brothers to notice, then who else might think that he fancied Hermione? He can't let his guard down- just pretend he doesn't like her and no one else will think he will.

  


But look at her! No, stop it! Look down, or at... anything else! Just not her.

  


"So, er... Herbology's getting a bit tougher, isn't it?" he said awkwardly.

  


Hermione sighed. "Well, it _wouldn't_ be if you did your work, now, would it?" She licked her lips while he responded.

  


"I didn't ask for a lecture! I just said it's awfully disheartening when Neville Longbottom's doing better in a class than you are."

  


She laughed again. It echoed off the corridors and rang in silence for a minute.

  


"You know, maybe I should have been in this play," she blushed. Wetting her lips again, she continued, "Seeing you up there, it looks like so much fun!"

  


"Yeah, it would have been, to have you in it and all," he lied. Not that he didn't want her to be in the musical, but part of him sort of wanted her to take that other dare they had made a long time ago. Ron cleared his throat and tried to change the subject, but couldn't help concentrating on her face. "Say, why d'you keep doing that?"

  


"Doing what?"

  


"Licking your lips like that."

  


She did it again and made a slightly discouraged face. "I don't really know. They... taste odd, or something."

  


"Really? Hmm-"

  


Before she could remember her first name, Ron Weasley had leaned over and kissed her smack-dab on the lips. Stunned shaking unbelieving what was this- he was kissing her! Why was he doing this? What was she supposed to do? Should she pull away? What if someone's watching...?

  


It's amazing all these thoughts could cross her mind in the mere second it all took place. Well, she is Hermione- her brain was used to working in triple-speed.

  


"Mmm. Yeah, that's funny," he commented as if he did it everyday.

  


Hermione stood stick straight at first, but reminded herself to act normal. Maybe friends do that after they've known each other long enough. Just play it cool.

  


Wait! She couldn't play it cool! She just remembered-

  


"Oh, right, now I remember why they tasted strange..." she told Ron slowly. She faced him and couldn't think of a look or tone to fit the occasion, so remained totally neutral.

  


"It was a special lip balm Madame Pomfrey had given me a while ago in the hospital wing," she started. Ron's face rose in color in fear of what was coming next.

  


"I had more than a cold. I had Lippe Kranken- a contagious kissing sickness."

  


Whoops.

  


  


  


  


Yay! For once, a long chapter. And finally something is- oh my God- '_happening'_ in one of my stories! What's wrong with me? Maybe I have lippa kranken, which I think means 'lip' and 'sick' in German. I don't know, because I don't speak it, just steal words from my Wöterbuch. Anyway, enough talking- I have to go write more while I'm on a roll.

  


  


  



	5. Treatments Available

"Stage Fights" by Quidditch, Anyone?

  


Treatments Available

  


"Weasley, how can I treat you if I'm not even allowed to see what I'm treating?" Madame Pomfrey scolded Ron. Hermione sat shyly beside him on a spindly wood chair.

  


Ron groaned and removed his hand from his mouth. Would Madame Pomfrey know what it was? Would she take one look at him and know _exactly_ what happened? Will she go and tell George and Fred and Harry and Ginny and-

  


All right, he had to calm down. On the bright side, he'd rather have her see it than all of Gryffindor asking him what happened to his shiny red, swelling lips.

  


"Hmm... do anything to hurt yourself Weasley?" she asked very suddenly, making Ron jump nervously.

  


"Erm... no, not-not that I can remember," he responded. He tried with all his might not to look at Hermione.

  


"Well, it's definitely curable."

  


Ron heaved a Ron-sigh of relief.

  


"But it may take a bit," she finished. Bugger!

  


"Lucky for you, this should speed up the process a great deal," she told him while rummaging through a drawer full of tubes and patches and what-nots. She tossed him a shiny metal tin about the size of a coat button and instructed him to use it three times a day until he looked normal again. When he first applied it, his lips looked perfectly fine.

  


"It won't last long," Madame Pomfrey said. "So remember to use it!"

  


"I will," he promised. She smiled approvingly and turned away to do whatever extras do when the two main characters have a heart-to-heart talk.

  


"So... that's good news!" Hermione piped up. "You can't even tell anything's wrong at all!"

  


"Yeah," he fumbled with the tin absentmindedly. The two stayed quiet for a moment, but with good reason. Really, what could either say? "Sorry I accidentally contaminated you when you were assaulting me?" "Oh, that's all right... happens to the best of us, really..."

  


Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, I have loads of work to do. Better be off to the library." With one last weak smile and awkward pause, she left Ron very much alone.

  


He ran a finger across his mouth to see if it felt right. It did, but that was really the least of his worries. His hand ran up to his forehead and stopped at the bridge of his nose while he thought of how stupid he had acted. Now, what one earth persuaded him to do such a thing? Just a second before all he could think about was how he couldn't make it obvious that he liked her. So what did he do? Why, leaned over and laid one on her, of course! I mean, wasn't that what everyone is_ supposed_ to do when they don't want their best friend to know they're in love with them?

  


Ron suddenly shuddered. He'd never even thought of that 'l' word until just now. He didn't really think he was 'in love' with Hermione; that was that sort of let's-get-married-and-spend-the-rest-of-our-lives-together thing. This was was just his... first crush. Though he didn't know much, he did know better than to think it would last, which is why he never told her.

  


He covered his face entirely in his broad hands. He didn't care much about how his sticking-up hair created the illusion that his hands were on fire; he had too much on his mind.

  


  


  


  


  



	6. Back To Work

"Stage Fights" by Quidditch, Anyone?

  


Back To Work

  


In no time at all, Ron was in tip-top shape and ready to rehearse again. Even better news was that no one in the whole school suspected what had happened, for Ron was very meticulous about his rituals to make sure his lips looked normal. Hermione was also kind enough not to go blabbing about what happened because, well, she was Hermione.

  


Normally the backstage members of a play have a great load of preparation to do before a performance- set making, costumes, lighting- but one of the perks of being a witch or wizard in showbiz was that one flick of your wand could make the Great Hall into one huge Broadway stage. So the jobs of the stage crew was more or less to thoroughly pamper the big-headed, spoiled, egotisti- er, _talented_ young actors. Herds of exhausted Hogwarts students flooded the halls at all practice hours with hot towels or extra-large lattes in their hands. Among the few that weren't bending over backwards for this play were Fred and George. However, they did have their hands full with some 'other' planning.

  


"So Gordon back in Hogsmeade loves the idea, but is tight on the Galleon at the moment..." Fred reported late one night by the fire.

  


"I don't want to work with ol' Fatty, anyhow," George speared another marshmallow with the fire poker as he spoke. "Seems like a cheat to me. Doesn't trust us 'cause we're still in school."

  


Fred sputtered slightly. "Oh, please. Anyone with half a brain knows our stuff is high-quality... they should be _begging_ for our business, not degrading us."

  


"Well, next year we'll be out of here, so maybe things will get better. No more schmoozy-woozy negotiating on our parts." George turned his marshmallow while Fred frantically pulled a flaming one out from the fire.

  


"Yeah, still doesn't change the fact we'll be the youngest merchandise sellers around, though," he said between puffing out the tiny fire. "God damn..."

  


"I'll eat it," George said, reaching over. "They're good burnt. Try one," he chomped. Fred made a face.

  


"This is why _I'm_ in charge of food manufacturing."

  


"Not if we can't find a someone who'll do business with us," George swallowed. "Then we're right outta luck, my friend."

  


The twins were silent for a moment. Probably for the first moment since birth.

  


"I know!" George said suddenly, causing his brother to drop the whole sack of white puffs on the floor. "Okay, hear my out!"

  


"All ears."

  


"What if," he started dramatically. "We got a _teacher_ to do business _with_ us! You know, pretend he's the one selling all our inventions, but really we're getting most of the cash. I promise you, we'll get much better offers if it's with-"

  


Fred cut him short with his uproarious laughter. "_Are you trying to commit school regulation suicide, George?_"

  


George blushed.

  


"Yeah, let's go up to McGonagall and blatantly admit we're making and selling practically illegal inventions from school. Not only that, but ask if, oh, she would mind doing us this_ small_ favor, and she'd even get to keep ten percent-"

  


"_No!_" George stomped his foot. "I-I didn't mean it like that." He obviously had no alternative, but he was merely trying to save face.

  


"Well, then, please tell me how you expect to get some teacher here, some thick-headed, dumb ass of a fool-"

  


Fred stopped. George grinned. Fred grinned. The marshmallows were roasting once again and the plan was mutually set without saying a word.

_·~··~··~·_

  


It was never harder to concentrate on Arithmacy. Ever time she saw the numbers sprawled out in some strategic was unknown to her at the moment, they would swim around in different patterns. First of a heart, then of a smiling mouth, then two people standing very close together. Then every time she got too absorbed and snapped her book shut, she saw a real-life image that had the same mesmerizing effect on her, fixing his hair in a mirror or something simple like that. Hermione sighed. She was far too smart to play such mind games with herself. Even in this crowded room behind the stage, she should be able to pay attention to the extra homework she had assigned herself. But not when he was there. Lately Ron-watching took precedence over all over activities. 

  


She shook her head and forcefully went back to studying. Stupid redheads...

  


"Hermione?"

  


Her head shot up as if were attached to a string. "Yes?"

  


In full costume, Ron walked over with two tattered hats in his hand. "This one," he placed one atop his hair. "Or this one," he switched.

  


"Well, no matter what, you're still going to be some super-fine hunk even in those grotesque clothes for the play."

  


Right, like she would actually say what her head voice told her.

  


"Umm, the first one," she said shyly. "It goes better with your shoes."

  


Ron looked down at his footwear while putting on the cap. Then he smiled. "And since when do you know so much about matching clothes and whatnot?"

  


She turned a page and started to read again. "Well, I know you haven't actually noticed this yet, but I_ am_ a girl." 

  


Most unfortunately, she didn't even realize what she had said until it was too late. She didn't mean to bring back passed quarrels with Ron, especially about certain fourth-year Yule Balls.

  


"I mean-"

  


"Oh. Well, I was just saying- it's not really like you to be all concerned with that kind of stuff. I'm just saying... it's nice how you're, you know, different," Ron mumbled. He secured his hat again and turned away, the back of his neck blazing with an embarrassed shade of red. 

  


"Ron! I didn't really mean-" she shouted, but later than she had intended. Ron had left in no time.

  


  


  


  


Nope, I didn't die. I've just been preoccupied and lazy about not updating. I know all these chapters aren't as funny as maybe the first few, but it's harder after not working on stories for a while. Anyway, here's the latest chapter. Next one out sooner, I hope. 

  



End file.
